


eames' kitchen

by fourhorsemen



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Baking, M/M, Youtuber Eames, vlog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 12:35:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20639261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fourhorsemen/pseuds/fourhorsemen
Summary: “Eames, what the hell is that?!” Arthur yelped, having made good on his promise of being back later. His eyes were wide, taking in the disaster that was the kitchen. Eames looked up at him guiltily, arms akimbo and hands covered in orange frosting.“You ever wondered what a true abomination in the kitchen looked like, darling?” he asked cheerfully.





	eames' kitchen

**Author's Note:**

> I've been reading a lot of old a/e fics on lj and well, I was watching Julien Solomito's most recent vlog and Jenna's reaction to it made me realise the whole thing had such... Arthur/Eames energy. [Watch at your own risk](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RmP9daEAh34)
> 
> Yes, I made Dom and Ariadne dogs. Yes, a lot of the dialogue is ripped straight out the video because the last time I wrote a fic was in 2015, sue me. This is mostly self indulgent, read at your own risk, bud.

Eames stared pensively at the counter while the camera rolled, shifting back on his haunches with a look in his eyes that, frankly, probably made most of his viewers extremely nervous. He sees Arthur walk down the stairs in his peripherals, with Dom and Ari trailing behind him, snuffling at his heels. 

“Darling, do you think I could box jump onto the counter?” he said, loudly and Arthur came to a sudden stop, teetering forward on the last step of the stairs by the kitchen.

“I mean, it’s not that I can’t, it’s just I’m not sure I have enough space to make the jump, you know?” Eames muttered, pacing back and forth, leaning forward and back. He heard Arthur mumble his name, only barely awake, eyes confused and mildly alarmed.

Eames looked to the camera, stared determinedly at the counter and jumped, smoothly landing on the counter. “Eames!” Arthur barked and the Iggys squealed behind him, Dom whimpering in distress and Ari yipping and yowling to join the party.

“Still got it!” Eames laughed, slapping a hand on the counter while Arthur chewed him out - _“so unhygienic, we put food on that counter! I can’t believe you-“ _his voice carrying loud enough for the camera to pick up. Eames smiled brightly and shooed him off and Arthur relented.

“I’ll be back later!” he called out warningly, shuffling down the hall to where the dogs’ empty food bowls were, both Italian greyhounds clamoring for their breakfast.

“I’m sure you will, love!” Eames replied, gazing fondly at his boyfriend’s retreating back, his sleep-mussed brown hair curling behind his ears and grey pajamas hanging low on his slim hips. Then he turned back to the camera, clapped his hands and began his intro.

* * *

“Welcome back to Eames’ Kitchen, today we’re going to be making Minecraft Lava Cake!” he proclaimed cheerfully. Then, as it happens, his strong beginning quickly devolved into rambling, as most of his kitchen vlogs tend to go.

“Well, it’s not precisely going to be lava cake because I watched a solid amount of videos about lava cake and it seems far too complicated for someone with my _considerable _baking talents,” he hears Arthur snort in the background, clearly catching the tail-end of that sentence, “so it’s just going to be regular layer cake with an exciting addition of fondant!”

“Fondant, which I have never bloody well heard of, and never set my eyes upon, tasted, nor attempted to make!” he concluded with a clap, grinning confidently at the camera, with the chaotic energy of someone who had absolutely no idea what they were doing. Eames could bet his poker chip collection that Arthur was going to have conniptions at the state of the kitchen after this.

* * *

“The first lesson about baking is that it’s all about intuition! I don’t understand why everyone follows a set of instructions, it’s such a bore!” he exclaimed. He grinned rakishly at the camera as he threw aside the Post-It he’d hastily scrawled the recipe on.

* * *

“This definitely does not look right,” Eames muttered, eyebrows furrowed, hands at his hips as he stared at the sticky, wet cake he pulled out of the oven. 

* * *

“Is fondant supposed to be this stringy?” he blurted, sometime later, looking at the gooey, marshmallow disaster he had been trying to shape with his hands.

* * *

“You know what I can make pixels with! Ice cubes! Christ, I’m brilliant!” he cried out, pouring the yellow-tinted milk into the tray and rushing off to set it in the freezer.

* * *

“Well, this… This did not turn out the way I expected. But worry not! We can still salvage this, we can…” he mumbled, biting his lip at the counter stained orange-yellow with gooey marshmallow and the squares of layer cake he’d set aside to “dry.”

“We can salvage this,” he muttered weakly.

* * *

“_Eames_, _what the hell is that?!_” Arthur yelped, having made good on his promise of being back later. His eyes were wide, taking in the disaster that was the kitchen. Eames looked up at him guiltily, arms akimbo and hands covered in orange frosting.

Arthur’s brown eyes were full of utter disbelief, arms hanging limp by his sides, shirt rumpled. Dom still circled his heels, whining profusely for Arthur’s undivided attention and Ari bounded up curiously to sniff at Eames heels. As Arthur glared murderously at him, Eames silently wondered how the man still looked bloody gorgeous in his rumpled clothing and unwashed, messy hair.

Eames wasn’t Eames if he didn’t put on an obnoxious ear-to-ear grin in the face of failure, adversity and Arthur’s temper.

“You ever wondered what a true abomination in the kitchen looked like, darling?” he asked cheerfully.

* * *

“Eames, _oh my god_,” Arthur groaned loudly, definitely not the type of groan Eames was hoping to hear from the love of his life, the light of his soul, his moon and st -“Okay, you can stop now because flattery is not going to help you right now,” Arthur snapped and dragged a hand down his tired face.

“Remember when we were talking about this, and I said that it is _not _going to work?” Arthur said, exasperated, “_what is that?” _he continued incredulously, moving a little closer to take a tentative look.

“It’s a layer cake, babe,” Eames said, guilelessly, reaching out a hand to pull Arthur closer by the wrist, to which he got exclamations of “Your hands are _covered _ in frosting, Eames, no!”, even while Arthur let himself be pulled around the counter to where Eames was standing in front of the camera. He shook free of Eames grasp and crossed his arms over his chest, glaring, mouth set in a pout.

“_That_, is not a layer cake,” he muttered, looking pointedly on the cake Eames had set on the counter. The counter, which then caught his neat-freak boyfriend’s undivided attention. 

“Oh my god, why is there orange and yellow _all over the counter_, that looks like it’s going to _stain_!” he shrieked, voice going up an entire octave which on another day, Eames would find absolutely hilarious if it weren’t currently directed at him.

Well, at least he got one thing right today; Arthur was indeed having a conniption at the state of their kitchen.

* * *

“It’s- It’s not going to stain, it’s food colouring, it’s made for this stuff, sweetheart!” Eames stuttered in reply, not entirely sure that it wasn’t going to stain but willing to make a case for himself because he really did not want to be castrated today. Arthur’s eyes sparked in annoyance, clearly knowing Eames was bluffing and Eames quickly changed the subject and pivoted on his heels sharply to face the camera, pulling Arthur in with an arm around his waist.

“Eames! Frosting! On my shirt-“ Arthur yelped, struggling in his hold and Eames bulldozed over him, “Well, now that Arthur’s here, he can help taste-test!” 

“I am _not _tasting that abomination,” Arthur growled and Eames turned his pitiful gaze on him. “Come on, darling, support me!” he whined.

“I’m _trying_,” Arthur replied, put upon and staring apprehensively at the “cake” Eames wanted him to taste, but thankfully, not removing himself from Eames hold on his waist. All hope was not yet lost.

“I need help, _please_,” Eames begged and Arthur stared at him and then the cake, “I can’t help you,” he said. “I mean, I need help in a more, broad, general life sense,” Eames admitted, chastened and Arthur rolled his eyes. “Believe me, I’ve been trying for years,” he muttered, glancing at the camera. Eames must have looked terribly disheartened to be insulted in front of his fanbase because Arthur made a valiant attempt.

“That… That looks exactly like a Minecraft lava block,” Arthur said woodenly, and Eames couldn’t help the huff of laughter that escaped him at the strained look on his face.

“Oh darling, you’re going to strain something on that lovely face of yours. I love you, I’m sorry for ruining your kitchen, now please just give it a little taste so we can wrap up the downfall of my entire cooking career in one vlog,” Eames said, chuckling. Arthur’s expression relaxed, he gave Eames a fond look and then nodded.

Eames let go of his boyfriend’s waist to spoon a bit of the cake (_“What is that?_” “_Fondant,” “Are you sure?!”_) and feed it to him. Arthur rolled it around in his mouth dubiously before mumbling, “well, that’s.. um..”, eyes flitting quickly away from him. Eames geared up for what he knew was about to come, his lovely boyfriend had clearly tried his best to spare his feelings.

“Eames, you cannot bake,” he said, chagrinned, a grimace on his face. Eames chortled. Arthur took this as his signal to _completely annihilate _him.

“_Oh my god, _I hate it. Eames, you _cannot _bake. I’m sorry!” Arthur exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air as Eames watched him adoringly.

“You do _not_ follow instructions and you have to be exact when it comes to baking, and you can’t just throw things together and expect them to come out well! Baking is not open to interpretation!” he kept on going, gesticulating wildly and clearly forgetting he was on camera. Eames just watched, beaming because he loved seeing Arthur like this, full of life, the constant hits to his self-esteem and (lack of ) baking talent were well worth the way his boyfriend’s eyes sparked and wild curls of his hair flew into his face with how energetically he was gesturing and shaking his head.

* * *

Arthur clearly noticed Eames silently staring at him and stopped talking, pursing his lips. Then, he glanced at the cake and then back at Eames a few times.

“Can I have another bite, I like the sugar,” Arthur finally said, making a grab for the spoon and Eames happily fed him a heap of frosting, grin widening. Arthur narrowed his eyes at him, making it clear this did not mean Eames was off the hook for “_ruining my kitchen” “Oh it’s just yours?” “Yes, because I’m the only one that takes cares of it and keeps it clean!”_

Lightning quick, Eames stole a kiss, getting orange frosting all over his mouth and a yell and a slap on the shoulder from Arthur for the PDA on camera. Eames turned gleefully towards the camera, showcasing his wondrous creation, a lopsided orange monstrosity in a plate full of melted yellow ice cubes.

“Welcome to Eames’ Kitchen, where we have an idea in our head, and it comes out nothing like it, and it happens really fast and then at the end you’re left feeling confused about your decision making in life in general,” he concluded, beaming at the camera.

* * *

He almost forgot to add a short apology at the end.

“I want to deeply apologise to my viewers for what I put you all through and I will definitely take some time to think about what I’ve done,” he mumbled guiltily. 

“If you have to unfollow me, I understand,” he sighed exaggeratedly, giving the camera his most mournful expression.

With no compunction or warning, Ari jumped up into his arms, her sleek brown coat soft on his skin.

“Oh hello there, my sweet little sous chef, would you like a taste?” he cooed, cradling her in the crook of his arm, where she curled up contentedly. He dipped his finger into the frosting and Ari perked up and licked it off, “Good girl, at least someone approves of my recipe,” he said lovingly, walking off screen.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for weird page breaks, liberal (and incorrect) use of quotations, and the general mess that this fic is. Like I said, I haven't written a damn thing since the shitty fanfiction golden years of 2014-2015.


End file.
